


When push comes to shove

by CupcakeGangsta



Series: Shatter me - Kindergarten AU [1]
Category: Shatter Me Series - Tahereh Mafi
Genre: Aaron plays baseball, Affairs, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Anderson isn't abusive, BAMF Leila, Divorce, Family Drama, Family Issues, Gen, He's an alcoholic though, I've named Adam's mom Catherine, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Leila centric, Smoking, Terminal Illnesses, Wow there is a combo of those two tags
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-03
Updated: 2020-05-03
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:14:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23989462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CupcakeGangsta/pseuds/CupcakeGangsta
Summary: Paris Anderson has a surprise in store for when he comes home from work.Or:Modern AU where Ms Kent reaches out to Leila about Anderson having an affair. And Leila is pissed.
Relationships: Paris Anderson/Leila Warner, Paris Anderson/Ms Kent
Series: Shatter me - Kindergarten AU [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1729834
Comments: 6
Kudos: 9





	When push comes to shove

**Author's Note:**

> As I've been trying to map out Cooties I've realized that I am far more invested in the parents' drama than in the children xD  
> So here's a prelude to the stuff Anderson, Leila and Catherine have to deal with.
> 
> It starts off right as Anderson comes home from work. Catherine has been at their house for quite a while and explained everything to Leila.
> 
> And also: I love Leila. She is my boss bitch.

He doesn't look up as he walks by the window. If he had looked up, if he had seen the two of them sitting with long-since-empty coffee cups between them, what would he have done? Fled? He would undoubtedly have seen it as a tactical retreat, but it would just have given her more time to book an appointment with the locksmith.

They both listen as he walks up the stairs, puts his key in the door, unlocks and opens it.

“Aaron!” He calls and the woman across from her startles.  
“Time to get ready for baseball practice!”

Leila reaches over the table and puts her hand over hers; and she hugs her fingers as she had done just an hour ago, and the hour before that.  
“He's with Dad”, she calls from the kitchen.

The pause is considerate, but not concerned. He takes off his coat. Puts his keys on the hook by the door.

He walks through the living room and dining hall, dumping his briefcase on the sofa, as always, then comes into the kitchen. He’s undoing his tie.

He grabs an apple off the kitchen isle.

“Does that mean we have the house for ourselves the entire afternoon?” He takes a bite out of the apple. 

Then he turns to look at the coffee table. And it takes a moment for him to register what he is looking at. But when he does his eyes go so wide it's almost comical. Like the characters in the cartoons Aaron watches on Saturday mornings.

But there is no pre recorded laughter sounding in the background.

He swallows the apple.

Then, three words; accompanied by a raised hand, as if he was preparing to fend off a pair of crazed dogs. Which Leila must admit was a very suitable reaction.

_“I can explain...”_

“I would like to see you try”, Catherine says. Her voice wobbling.

He opens and closes his mouth, and Leila thinks he looks so stupid. Like an idiot. Leila knows he had always been an idiot, but she had repressed it in favor of playing the pretty housewife with a beautiful child to take care of.

“This isn't the kind of shit you can _explain_ Paris”, Leila says as she stands up. And she can tell he’s already taken aback with her. It’s rare that she curses.

“You can _explain_ to me that the reason you drink your feelings away is because you never learnt how to cope with them…!”

She walks up to him, and he backs away until his rump touches the counter.

“And you can _explain_ to me why you refuse to make your son pancakes on the weekends; it’s because your psychotic mother bullied you about wanting to be a baker!”, she says and she’s stabbing at him with her finger. With the hand wearing the wedding rings she wants to tear off and throw down the garbage disposer.

“But you can't explain how a man marries a woman and stays married to her despite having a healthier relationship to another woman since before his first son was even born! When he has not one but TWO children with her! There isn't a fucking chance in this world you can explain that, _Paris!”_

She’s yelling now. And he’s so surprised. He doesn’t how to handle her yelling, because she never yells. And if she does he’s already drunk, and then he has no problem yelling back at her.

But he’s not drunk; because this is a Tuesday afternoon and he didn’t expect to come home to find his wife and his lover sitting in the kitchen with four hours of conversations between them.

Despite being taller than her he looks small and scared. Like a child. It reminds her of one time when she had walked in on Aaron rummaging through her make-up box. He had had blue eye shadow smeared on his cheeks. Paris hadn't approved, but no damage had been done and they had gotten a cute Christmas card.

She doubts this will result in anything cute, however.

She holds his gaze like that, with him pressed up against the counter.

He moistens his lips. His eyes not daring to glance at Catherine who’s still over by the table.

_“...I could say I'm a Mormon.”_

It's Catherine who slaps him and next thing she's slamming the front door. Leila doesn’t mind her leaving. They have already swapped phone numbers and promised each other they would be in touch.

She can hear Paris yelling outside.

“Cat _please!"_

She shouldn't feel offended that he runs after her. He wouldn't have ran after Leila if she had been the one to storm off. Wouldn’t have tugged on her car door as she prepared to drive off. 

Catherine must have that feature that makes it impossible to open it from the outside once the car is running, though. Leila had to admit she had never thought of it to be used like that.

Leila watches Catherine drive off and Paris is yelling in the street, waving after her. She hopes the neighbors sees him stomp and kick the road, run his hands through his hair, look utterly lost on what to do.

When Paris returns back inside she’s over by the kitchen fan. She hopes it will prevent the smell of nicotine from sticking. She hasn't smoked since getting married. Paris still does.

He looks at her from the door frame leading back into the hallway. He’s panting. She doesn't look at him. Instead she stares at the fridge magnets. At the art Aaron has brought home from kindergarten.

“Leila, where are you going?”, he asks. She’s impressed he even noticed that she had put on her jacket.

She makes him wait. Puffs on the cigarette. Drops the ash in a cup standing by the sink. Exhales; in the corner of her mouth to make sure it travels out via the fan.

“I’m going to my father’s”, she tells him.

“Why?”, he demands. And she can’t help but compare him to a child again. _Why?_ Such a stupid question.

 _“I’m leaving you, Paris.”_ She deliberately makes her words slow and articulate to make it easier for him to understand.

He is quiet for a moment, the situation dawning on him.

“Can we talk about this?”, he asks. He runs a hand through his hair.

“You’ve had six years to talk about this”, she tells him.

 _“You’ve had six years”,_ she repeats when he opens his mouth to protest. “Three trips to the Bahamas, two babies and one terminally ill lover to talk about this.”

She doesn’t care that he looks like she’s punched him in the gut.

“Trust me, we _are_ going to talk about this; to sort _this_ out”, she makes a gesture at the house before putting out the cigarette in the cup.  
“We’re going to find a nice family lawyer and sort out the alimony and the child support and the stupid mortgage, but until then I’m staying at Dad’s. And if you go anywhere near Aaron I’m calling the police.”

The shock that passes his face is replaced with wrath.

“You can’t do that!” He storms up to her.

She glares up at him. Her bravado suddenly scared away. But she doesn’t show it. If she shows that towering over her actually scares her she will lose.

And she can’t lose. She’s been losing for the last six years.

“Do you think you can scare me, Paris Anderson?”

“Leila, I’m serious, he’s my son, too.”

And suddenly the image of Catherine burns in her mind. Of the woman telling her she was dying, and that she was afraid of the possibility that her boyfriend would let their children disappear into the system. And she pushes him away with a force that even surprises herself.

“Then you should have thought about the two other ones!”, she screams.

* * *

He’s standing on the porch when she reverses her car out of the driveway. She knows he’s going to go across town to Catherine’s as soon as she leaves. And hopefully he’s going to find all of his things scattered across her lawn. She hopes the children won’t have to see it though.

Adam and James.

She almost starts to cry behind the wheel. But she doesn’t, because then Aaron would ask her why she was sad. And she couldn’t tell him that he had two little brothers who within the next year would only have a shitty Dad left to take care of them.

Not yet at least.

She and Catherine has some serious ground work to do first.

**Author's Note:**

> Just a lil' disclaimer: Leila and Catherine aren't planning to kill Anderson. They're just planning to put him in some serious rehab and family consultation.
> 
> Please leave a comment if you enjoyed and want to see more! We don't have that many fics featuring the parents and I want to know if there's a crowd before spending more time on this!


End file.
